73: Chapter 73 Differences Among Emperor Xuan: The First Signs of Conflict

The morning breeze crept through the gaps in the palace walls, carrying a hint of chill.

Chen Xuan stood at the entrance of the side hall, the hem of his clothes fluttering slightly in the wind.

He had just changed into a clean set of black martial attire, his belt cinched straight, and his black boots polished until they shone.

The dust, the scent of blood, and the muffled sounds of the cave-in from the underground secret passage last night were all left behind him.

But the booklet against his chest remained, pressing heavily against his heart.

The hall doors were half-open, and an attendant bowed his head and retreated to the side: "Your Majesty is already inside."

Chen Xuan nodded and stepped inside.

Empress Murong Wan sat behind the desk, still wearing her bright yellow Dragon robe, the Nine-Dragon Nine-Phoenix crown shimmering in the morning light.

She was reviewing memorials, her vermilion brush hovering over the paper. She looked up at him, her voice flat: "You've arrived?"

"Mm."

Chen Xuan walked to the desk, took out a neatly folded sheet of paper from his robe, and placed it gently on the table. "This is a copy of the old archives memorandum. I kept the original just in case. Everything recorded inside is true."

Empress Murong Wan set down her brush, reached out to take it, and flipped through the pages.

Her movements were steady, her fingertips showing not a tremor, but the pace at which she turned the pages slowed until, by the end, she was reading nearly word by word.

The hall was quiet; birds chirped outside the window, the footsteps of patrol guards could be heard in the distance, and there was the faint sound of wind blowing through the copper bells under the eaves.

She finished reading, closed the pages, placed them back on the desk, and said nothing.

Chen Xuan did not rush her; he simply stood there, hands hanging at his sides, his gaze fixed on her face.

After a while, Empress Murong Wan finally spoke, her voice still calm: "Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou is a second-rank official who has managed the Ministry of Revenue for over a decade. His students and former subordinates are spread throughout the Six Ministries. If he falls, the administration will surely fall into chaos. Military provisions for the border, flood control in the south, the autumn tax audit—none of these can be delayed."

"That is why I suggest we act now."

Chen Xuan said bluntly, "Send experts to arrest him overnight, seal his estate, and seize the evidence. Do not give him a chance to collude or destroy the ledgers. Wait for Censorate to investigate slowly? It will be too late by then."

Empress Murong Wan looked up at him: "Do you know that among the thirty-seven directors in the court, twelve are from his tutelage? Among the Ministers of the Six Ministries, three are his in-laws. If you make this move, you are not just catching a corrupt official; you are tearing apart a web. All officials will feel threatened, everyone will be looking out for themselves, and who will dare to do their work then?"

"And what about the common people?"

Chen Xuan took a half-step forward, his tone intensifying, "During the Yongchang years, when three prefectures reported disasters, he suppressed the memorials and did not report them, leading to delayed relief. How many people starved to death? The military grain procurement list was swapped, and soldiers at the front were eating moldy rice. Who is responsible? As long as these matters go uninvestigated, the people suffer for one more day! Is the 'stability' you want built upon the foundation of human lives?"

Empress Murong Wan tapped her fingers lightly on the desk, once, then again.

She did not lose her temper, nor did she refute him; she only said indifferently: "State affairs are like sailing a ship; making a sharp turn will cause it to capsize."

"But the ship is leaking at the bottom!"

Chen Xuan raised his voice, "You don't patch it, you don't plug it, and you're afraid of me jumping up and shouting? This ship will sink sooner or later!"

The two stared at each other. One sitting, one standing, the distance between them was no more than five paces, yet it felt as if a river lay between them.

Empress Murong Wan finally sighed, picked up the vermilion brush, and tapped lightly on the copy: "This matter involves too much; we cannot act rashly. I will have Censorate investigate secretly and collect corroborating evidence. We will make a decision once the evidence is solid. What is most important right now is to stabilize the situation, not to escalate the conflict."

"Wait?"

Chen Xuan sneered, "Wait for him to move all the money? Wait for him to silence the witnesses? Wait for his faction to set up a trap and bite back at me? Your Majesty, are you afraid that the matter will become too big, or are you afraid that it won't be big enough?"

When these words were spoken, the air in the hall seemed to freeze.

Empress Murong Wan's fingers paused on the brush, her earlobe trembled slightly, then returned to normal.

She did not get angry, nor did she strike the table; she only slowly set down the brush, looked at him, and said: "Chen Xuan, you have saved me twice and helped Great Zhou three times; I have not treated you poorly. But you are a Martial Artist, not a Prime Minister. You can seek revenge as you please, and I can strike with thunderous force. But I am the Emperor, and I must consider the entire world."

"So you just endure it?"

Chen Xuan stared at her, "Endure until he becomes an uncontrollable tumor? Endure until the common people rise up in rebellion? You say you want to consider the world, but what you are doing now is shielding him!"

"I am not shielding him." Her voice turned a few degrees colder, "I am weighing the options."

"Weighing the options, my foot!"

Chen Xuan slammed his hand on the edge of the table, making the teacup jump, "You weigh the options back and forth, and in the end, you offend no one, but the result is that the wicked go free and the good suffer! If you truly care for the world, you should take his head and hang it at the Meridian Gate for all to see, so everyone knows that if they break the law, they must die!"

Empress Murong Wan stood up abruptly.

Her tall figure stood behind the desk, her gaze like a blade: "Are you teaching me how to be an Emperor?"

"I am not teaching you."

Chen Xuan looked her straight in the eye, "I am reminding you not to forget who you are. You are not just a woman who wants to sit securely on the Dragon throne; you are the monarch of Great Zhou! The people recognize you for this Dragon robe, not for the power backing you!"

She did not move, nor did she sit down; she just stood there, the majesty on her face undiminished, yet a flicker of hesitation flashed in her eyes.

It was quickly suppressed.

She slowly sat back in her chair, picked up the vermilion brush, and tapped lightly on the copy: "We shall discuss this matter later."

"A fine 'discuss later'."

Chen Xuan laughed, a cold laugh, "Last time I said the Shadow Sect had problems, you said investigate; the time before that I said the Ministry of Justice accounts were wrong, you said discuss later. Now that we have the culprit and the evidence, you still say discuss later? Fine, then discuss it at your leisure. I cannot wait, I will handle it myself."

Having said that, he turned and left.

His boot soles struck the blue bricks, making crisp sounds. One step, two steps, three steps.

"Chen Xuan." She called out to him from behind.

He paused in his stride but did not turn back.

"If you act on your own and something goes wrong, the Imperial Court will not acknowledge you."

Her voice was very soft, yet every word was clear, "I do not want to push you out to quell the chaos, but if you force me... I can only do what an Emperor must do."

He did not respond, nor did he move.

After a moment, he lifted his leg and continued forward, pushed open the hall doors, and walked out.

Outside, the sunlight was perfect, shining brightly on the palace path. He squinted, raised his hand to wipe the tip of his nose with his index and middle fingers, and took a deep breath.

There was a stone bench under the west corridor; he walked over and sat down, his hands resting on his knees, his knuckles white from gripping.

The wind whipped past his ears, but it could not extinguish the fire in his heart.

He knew she was right; she was the Emperor, she had to consider the court situation, maintain balance, and prevent turmoil.

But he also knew that some things could not wait.

The guards who died in the underground secret passage last night, the self-destruct mechanisms, the charred remnants of the archives... they were not fought for just to hear a "we shall discuss this later."

He looked down at his own hands.

These hands could save lives, and they could kill. They could rip off a roof, and they could tear down a city wall.

But now, they were blocked at the door by the word "stability."

He suddenly felt a bit tired.

Not physically tired, but heart-weary.

Just as he was thinking this, the hall door behind him opened a crack.

A small attendant poked his head out, looked at him, and then shrank back.

Not long after, Empress Murong Wan sat back behind the desk, holding another memorial, but she did not review it for a long time.

Her fingers unconsciously twirled her earlobe, her gaze fixed on the old archives memorandum, remaining motionless for a long time.

The vermilion brush rested by the inkstone, the ink still wet.